


Invasion Of The Forest

by Wedge_Antilles



Category: Vermintide, Warhammer, Warhammer - End Times
Genre: Appologies for the non-canon Warhammer race, Gen, Sargent Kruber, The Guardians and their job are my creation, Warhammer - Vermintide, Woops, cos im trash, end times, witch hunter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-11 21:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13533228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wedge_Antilles/pseuds/Wedge_Antilles
Summary: This is a super short chapter because my dumb butt went and lost the plan for the fic. Sorry!





	1. The Stranger

Blasted rain. It hammered down on their heads and clanged as it hit the metal armour coating Kruber's shoulders and chest. At least he didn't have a helmet on - he could only imagine how annoyed the dwarf was getting. The sooner they got finished in the forest, the better. Only one more job amongst the trees stood in the way of a warm meal back at The Red Moon, even if it was a bland and tasteless one.

The newest member of the party, a quiet woman who walked with help from the long bardiche she carried with her, hung at the back. Whenever the Sargent glanced back she would be grazing her hand over the dripping leaves while she walked. Perhaps she was making the most of it, should she never return to her home in the forest. How Kruber would've liked to do the same, but now he daren't go home in case the farm was nothing more than a shell. Not a soul inside. 

A voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"I'm hungry." Bardin grumbled,

"No you're not." Kruber said plainly as he ducked underneath a low branch. The dwarf, however, was the perfect height to just toddle underneath it.

"I think I know my own stomach, Azumgi." The Ranger's sharp response earned a huff from the Witch Hunter who was ahead, leading the group through the canopy of trees and bushes.

"We must destroy those Skaven machines first, then you can have food once we return to the Red Moon." Saltzpyre barely even looked back as he spoke. He was far too busy trying to take them in the right direction, following the lines on the map that had been distorted by the rain.

 

The troupe fell into silence again, broken only by the pat of the rain. It stayed like this for a while until Kruber could take no more of the maddening sounds of their boots squelching in the mud out of time.

"I've never met one like you," he started, sending a look towards the newcomer they had retrieved only an hour or so before. "A Guardian, I mean."

"We don't often stray from our turf. It has been many a' year since I last left the graves."  
those were the first full sentences she had spoken since she had been holding her weapon to the Witch Hunter's throat. By Sigmar, how Saltzpyre had almost lopped her head off before realising that she was th eone they were there looking for. Bloody lucky, that was.  
"And I suppose you can see why. We don't seem to get along too well with the living."

Kruber could've sworn he heard a laugh from her, just a faint one.

"So... you prefer the dead, huh?"

"On occasion. Not always. Silence can become too much, you see. It taints the soul, and soon you have a 'Corrupt Sentinel' on your hands."

"Have any of you - I mean, are there any of those around now?" The last thing they needed was another trouble to look out for while fighting the damned Skaven hoards.

"There are a few that wander their grounds, bound to the darkness they bred within them."

"I've heard stories of them. My Grandma would tell me about them. They lure humans into the forests they keep and-" There was a pause and Kruber's features took on a grave expression. These Guardians - they reminded him too much of Necromancers, and while neither the newcomer nor the others knew of his experiences with such, he wondered if they would ask him for his reasons on stopping mid sentence.

"Harvest their souls." She finished for him. "But don't fear them. They are weak in these times. Even they call for aid against the Skaven that ravage the land."

The Sargent went to speak again, but the voice of the Dwarf cut him off. Apparently not everyone was enjoying the conversation.

"Could you two be more of a downer on the situation? Where's your warring spirit!" he yelled.

"Quieten down, Gorrikson. Any half-awake Skaven could hear you." Saltzpyre grumbled. Well, he did have a point.

" _Quieten down. _" Bardin mocked. "You don't tell those chatter boxes to be quiet."__

__"That's because they weren't talking for all to hear."_ _

__It felt like it was going to be a long journey, with all the arguing that suddenly erupted, but it wasn't. soon enough, they came to an opening in the trees and a slight drop that led down to a marshland crawling with Skaven. They would have to make their way through the rest of the forest if they were going to get to the alleged war machines the ratmen were building._ _


	2. Shadows

"My boots are never going to survive this." Kruber muttered under his breath as he trudged behind Saltzpyre, who seemed to be making it through the ankle-high mud with ease despite the odd Clanrat he would bash away with his axe. The others stayed quiet, that way it was easier to hear the tell-tale noises of approaching Skaven. That, and none of them could really think about what to say. Their minds were fixed on the task at hand...

All but the one of the woman who had joined them. She couldn't keep her thoughts straight, not even for a moment. They were constantly rushing around - from her new company, to the Beastmen they faced, to the home she left behind. It was all just happening so fast. In no way was she used to this much... urgency.

"Come along, Keeper." The voice of the Witch Hunter came across harsh, but he was simply meaning to keep the troupe together. Evil lurked in the shadows.

"I have a name, I'll have you know." was her rash reply.

"Really?" The Sargent frowned slightly, genuinely surprised. Lonher hadn't given them a name to go off, and she hadn't mentioned having one during the time they had been walking together. He must've just assumed that her kind were nameless.  
"What is it?"

The woman looked up, glad that what she saw was the backs of all of the others. After a deep inhale, she let the name pass her lips for the first time in years. Living where she did, she didn't have anyone to introduce herself to on a daily basis. In truth, she was surprised that the label hadn't faded from her memory.

"Teguend." The voice was small and quiet, but the others heard alright.

"Teguend?" Kruber allowed the name to pass his lips, half expecting to be corrected on the pronunciation, but he was met only by a soft noise of affirmation from the woman.  
"Really?" The woman looked up quickly and allowed her brows to knit together, staring into the back of the Sargent. "Yes. Why, were you expecting something to do with death?" Despite the way she came across, an anger to her words, Kruber didn't flinch. He simply shrugged his shoulders and watched the ground where he walked. "It just sounds awfully _normal _for one of Morr's chosen."__

____

__She hadn't quite expected that reaction. She didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't the soft voice of the country-born Sargent. She awaited something more like the voice she had bitten back with._ _

__

__Kruber had seen his fair share of 'mythical' things, and by Sigmar had he spent enough time with the Elf to not take anything too personally. Sometimes people just didn't think when they spoke. Nothing more, nothing less. It wasn't a personal attack. He was going to continue speaking but, in his absentminded state of wandering, he felt himself almost trip over the short frame of the Dwarf who had stopped mid-step and was holding onto the strap around the Witch Hunter's waist, keeping him still. His chin lifted slightly and his nose scrunched._ _

__"Don't you hear it?" The shortest of the group said, his eyes moving to each of them. The gazes that had been moved to the dwarf darted to look around the fog, searching madly for whatever it was that the Ranger was referring to._ _

Opening his mouth to speak, the Sargent found his words pushed from his lips as nothing more than a strained gasp as something gripped unforgivingly around his neck and tugged him back. Within an instant his hands were gripping at the device that threatened to close his throat, desperately trying to call for help.

The others hadn't seen it coming. They were staring out into the mashes when they heard the unmistakeable click of a Packmaster's Polearm take a hold around the Sargent's neck, losing them some of the precious time that they had to save him.

"They have the Sargent!" Saltzpyre yelled and took off into a sprint, followed closely by Teguend and the Dwarf. Skaven were fast buggers, even when trying to drag unwilling prey along with them, so it was no surprise that they had trouble catching up.

In a sudden rush, the Guardian put all of her might into a quick sprint as the Packmaster tried to get further away. It had crossed Saltzpyre's mind to shoot the beastman, but the newcomer rushed in the way, swinging her bardiche into the Skaven's side and making it fall into a limp pile on the muddy floor.

"Come along, Sargent. There are more ratmen to kill." The Witch Hunter said as he tugged the device's grip free of Kruber's neck and threw it to the side. The Sargent placed his hands onto his knees and took in a few deep breaths. Gods it was nice to have the air filling his lungs again.

A hand moved to his shoulder, and when he looked to see who's it was, he caught a glimpse of worry in the Guardian's eyes as she surveyed the damage done to him.

"Are you alright? We can rest a moment if you need to."

"No, no. I'm alright. Just - give me a second to get my breath back."

After a few more deep breaths, he stood up straight again and followed the Dwarf and the Witch Hunter back to the path they had strayed from, grabbing the weapon he had dropped in the floor when the Packmaster had grabbed him.

"Does that happen a lot?" A voice piped up from behind him.

"What, me gettin' captured?" Kruber looked back, a smile on his lips, despite what had just happened. "Yeah, sort of. These lot keep a lousy lookout." He joked, laughing at the noise Saltzpyre made in response.

"No," there were hints of a smile in her voice. "Anyone - The Hunter seemed to know his way around that contraption well enough."

"One must know their enemy, Keeper, and their tools. Else there would be no hope of ending them." Saltzpyre called back upon hearing his title. "But we can talk of Skaven techniques another time. It appears we have arrived at our 'War machines.'"


	3. War Machines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a super short chapter because my dumb butt went and lost the plan for the fic. Sorry!

Skaven poured from the walls and cracks in the ground only to be cut down mercilessly by one of the four. Saltzpyre walked with his back towards the others, a barrel of explosives balanced on his shoulder and his pistol drawn. He was hesitant to fire it in case a spark lit the gunpowder that he carried, but it was there in case the others couldn't get to him in time.

"This barrel should do it." He called back as he tossed it forward and fired a shot directly in it's center before turning and running the way that he and the others had come. A huge crash sounded throughout the courtyard of vile Skaven technology, and the final wheel had been destroyed. With a look of triumph on his face, Kruber yelled for the others to follow when the rumbling from the explosive had nudged the large door that stood between them and their escape open just enough for them all to squeeze through.

"Where are we headed?" The Keeper asked over the noises of pistols being fired and ratmen falling lifelessly to the floor.

"We must get to the inn and call for the old crone." Saltzpyre replied hastily, kicking the tall door shut after they had all passed through. "She's our only way to get back to the Red Moon."

 

All was going well. There were the remnants of an old pathway through the carved-out dip in the ground which the followed with haste - nothing could've stopped them, adrenaline was high and the triumph from their victory still rushed through their blood. That was when a hand grabbed onto the pack the dwarf carried with him and dragged him back with an almighty force. Before Bardin could ask what in all the God's name what Kruber had done that for, the Sargent whispered,

"Stormvermin formation."

Huddled behind one of the decaying walls, the four watched as the Blackrats marched in time. The other Scaven were bad enough, but the Stormvermin? There was something even more unsettling about them. The way they kept in two perfectly distinguished lines, how they held their weapons ready at their sides and their armour clanged together... Kruber had seen it all before, but my humans, by soldiers. By _his_ soldiers. They wanted to be sure that they were completely in the clear before even thinking about stepping out of their hiding place.

"They're hideous." The statement was breathed quietly from the Sargent's side. He cast a glance to the Keeper, who looked in absolute shock. He forgot that she'd never seen them before. At least not this close.

"That's not the worst of it. Those bastards have all sorts of monstrosities up their sleeves." He replied as he stepped out and gestured for them to follow. Saltzpyre easily slunk out of the space, eyes darting all around while the Sargent helped the Keeper to her feet, followed by Bardin who also managed to get out with ease.

 

As it turns out, they may not have left enough time for the patrol to get out of ear-shot.

"Man things, there-there!"

 

Fuck.


End file.
